


Wake me up when September ends.

by smartforholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Little Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Young Mycroft Holmes/Young Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartforholmes/pseuds/smartforholmes
Summary: After the death of Uncle Rudy, Mycroft discovers that he will not be alone ever again.Based on Mystrade Monday prompt #17 “Don’t try to fix me, I'm not broken.”
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Wake me up when September ends.

At the end of Summer, Gregory stood beside his tearing best friend, Mycroft Holmes, whilst the casket that carried his beloved Uncle Rudy was lowered 6 feet underground. Cancer was a great downfall, and Gregory had experienced it himself; losing a relative due to it was the opposite of just witnessing the disease.

But Uncle Rudy was an extraordinary and unforeseen case, Gregory recalled when he felt Mycroft's forehead pressed against his right shoulder; Rudy Holmes was a man that held great power in his hands, amend and indestructible in any possible aspect. That's why, when Mycroft arrived at his home at the beginning of Spring, soaked up due to the unstoppable rain and crying desperately, Greg found out he had been diagnosed with Colon Cancer on Stage IV. There was nothing that they could do but wait.

However, the wait wasn't long. On the night of September 10th, when the entire Holmes family and close friends, including Gregory, were gathered in Rudy's living room, Rudy Holmes took his last breath as he held Mycroft's hand dearly.

Now there they were, tears falling from the eyes of all the attending people when the last drop of dirt fell and Rudy Holmes was officially gone forever. Greg felt Mycroft's thin arms encircling his waist, head buried against his chest as sobs broke out from his mouth.

With his hand stroking the ginger curls, Greg whispered in his ear. “Let’s go home, love.” Mycroft looked up at him and relied on him for support.

Both teenagers climbed up Mycroft's parents’ Suburban, little Sherlock asleep on his booster, unaware of how unfair and painful life could be. The entire way to Musgrave, Greg held Mycroft in his arms, scared that if he let go, his best friend could break into a million pieces.

“How are you feeling, Myc?” The brown-haired boy whispered, fingers brushing glowing ginger locks. “Are you tired?” Mycroft just shook his head no and settled himself against Gregory's chest more firmly.

“There’s no need to fix me,” Mycroft mumbled as more tears fell from his eyes. “I’m not broken.”

“I know,” Gregory reassured, a single tear streaming down his face. “I know.”

After a couple of minutes, Siger Holmes’ deep voice announced.

“We are home, everyone.” And they climbed out, Violet scooping the younger Holmes in her arms whilst Siger supported Mycroft alongside Gregory.

Once inside the residence, Mycroft slipped out of Greg's warm embrace, running the stairs up to his bedroom and slamming the door shut with a loud bang. Gregory almost ran after him, only to be stopped by Mycroft's father.

“Give him some time, son,” Siger whispered, rubbing his hand on Greg's shoulder comfortingly. “You well know how important Rudy was on Myc’s life.” Nodding silently, Greg accepted the fact and walked towards the living room.

He settled down as if it was his own home, familiar with the house and Mycroft's family ever since he was in Year 3 and Mycroft barely began Year 1. _Protecting him ever since_ the brown-haired boy thought with a smile.

His memories are intruded by Violet sitting next to him, the faint smell of sweet perfume filling his nose.

“Getting nostalgic, my boy?” Violet said, a sad smile shaping her chapped lips. “Remembering is the first step to healing.”

Greg sighed, looking down. “I wasn't even his close relative and it's still hard,” Lestrade confessed, passing his hand through long, soft brown hair. “But Mr. Rudy loved Mycroft _so_ much and knowing that I will be there to keep protecting him when he... When he...” Greg choked on a sob and the woman gathered him in her arms, hushing him.

“I know, I know.” She murmured in his ear as she rubbed his back gently. “You earned Rudy's respect and trust for being there for Mycroft, so much that his last wish was for you to guard him as he would have.” Greg looked up and smiled, whipping his eyes with his sleeve.

Composing himself, Gregory then got up. “I’m going to check on Mycroft, he shouldn't grieve alone.” Violet's eyes teared up, moved by how pure the boy's heart was.

With a simple nod as an answer, Gregory made his way up, walking calmly towards the door of Mycroft's bedroom.

He knocked on 3 occasions, a lapse of 2 seconds between each one. “Myc? Are you in there, sunshine?” Soft sniffling and quiet whimpers answered him. “Mycroft? Can you come out?”

A broken voice muffled by something fluffy, most probably a pillow, replied. “Wake me up when September ends.”

Gregory's heart broke at Mycroft's words, _—Fuck privacy—_ he thought as he opened the door, finding Mycroft curled up on his bed with the suit still on, sobbing painfully against his pillow. He raced towards the trembling mess on the mattress, hands landing on his left arm.

“Hey,” Greg uttered, leaning down so he could press a short kiss on the younger teenager's temple. “Sit up so I can hold you properly, huh?”

Still crying, Mycroft mutely rose and fell straight into Greg's open arms, holding onto his back when the intense sobbing made him tremble miserably. The elder boy lowered them down, Greg's back laying against the headboard and the auburn safely secured in his chest. Mycroft cried for long minutes, unaware Violet and Siger were witnessing the scene from the entrance, sad expressions on their faces.

“I got you, y'know that, right? Always,” Gregory soothed him, stroking his hair. “I will always be here, My,”

Mycroft sniffed and looked up, meeting Gregory's wonderful brown eyes. “Until the end of September?” He asked innocently, weakened by the crying.

Holding Mycroft's face with both hands, Gregory pressed their foreheads together, dropping a single kiss to the top of his nose. “Until the end of September, darlin’.” Greg played along, removing a tear from the corner of Mycroft's eye.

Eventually, Mycroft laid back against his best friend's torso, falling asleep not long after. The adequate moment for Violet and Siger to enter the room of their eldest.

“My poor boy,” Violet sobbed, her hands caressing Mycroft's disheveled curls.

Siger sat next to Greg, his hand holding Mycroft's that laid on top of Gregory's heart. “There are no words that can express my gratitude for you, Gregory,”

The named grinned, his eyes looking deep into Siger’s. “I care about him a lot, Mr. Holmes. It is my pleasure to be here for him.” He said under his breath, holding him tighter.

“Mycroft loves you dearly, Gregory,” Violet stated, giggling after seeing Greg's cheeks blush a deep red. “I see, but I also observe, son.”

Siger didn't stay behind as he teased. “I would love to have you as my son-in-law, Gregory,”

“Mr. Holmes!”  
“Siger!"

The three of them laughed, Siger sobering up abruptly. “Speaking seriously now. Greg, if you hurt my son in any way, I am a black belt on Taekwondo, and my youngest is... Well, little, but Uhm... He can be dangerous sometimes.”

Gregory relaxed against the wooden headboard, yawning softly. “I would never hurt him, Mr. Holmes,” The teenager promised the moment his eyes drifted close, tiredness intensifying. “Never.” And then it all painted black.

•

When Gregory came about, he had a tiny hand tugging his dress shirt, and a rather irritating little voice was speaking.

“Greg’ry,” The voice continued, and Greg had to force his eyes to flutter open, just to find a black cotton ball of hair in his face.

Flinching, Gregory realized Mycroft was still asleep on top of him. “Sherlock!” He all but yelled at the toddler, earning a childish laugh by the younger Holmes. “You can't do that!”

“Mummy said b’ekfast, you and Mycie,” Sherlock mumbled, climbing on top of Greg to rest his head beside his brother's. “Hung’y, pwease get up.”

Laying there, with both Holmes brothers resting on top of him, Gregory couldn't have asked for more blessings from God. So, carefully separating Mycroft's limp body from his chest and carrying Sherlock in his arms, Greg made his way downstairs.

Violet Holmes emerged from the kitchen, 2 plates with waffles resting in her hands. “Oh, good morning!” The woman cheered, smiling brightly, but frowning at the sight of just the two of them. “Where’s Mycroft?”

Gregory sat down Sherlock on his chair, walking towards Mrs. Holmes. “He’s still asleep, thought it was best to let him rest.” At Violet's expression, Gregory corrected. “But I will check if he wants to have breakfast.”

Walking up the stairs once again, Gregory entered Mycroft's room, just to find him in the same position.

“Myc, wake up, sunshine,” Greg whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Time to wake up.”

The elder Holmes stirred and opened his eyes eventually, smiling at how close Gregory's face was. “Morning, Gregory,”

Greg answered with a kiss against his forehead. “Your mum made quite a delicious breakfast, mind joining us?” Mycroft's eyes teared up a little but nodded in agreement.

With his hand on Greg's, both teens made their way down, being greeted by Mycroft's parents and Sherlock, who had his face covered in marmalade and whipped cream. Mycroft chuckled at the portrait, and Greg's chest fluttered in love.

Half an hour later, whilst Violet washed the dishes and Siger dried, Mycroft and Gregory sat together on the settee, watching Sherlock playing with his toys on the ground.

“How are you feeling?” Asked Greg, looking at the pale blue eyes.

Mycroft frowned at the question but replied anyway. “I’m alright, Greg, there's no need to ask every 10 minutes.”

“Oi,” Gregory chuckled, wrapping an arm around slender shoulders, bringing him closer to him. “I love you a lot Myc, you have to worry about the people you love,”

But Mycroft's reaction was the opposite Gregory expected, instead of giggling and kissing him desperately as Greg predicted, Mycroft burst into tears

.

“No, no, Myc, what's wrong?” Mycroft began to hush him, acknowledging who was with them in the living room.

“Mycie?” Sherlock's voice echoed, tiny steps resounding in the area, his little face appearing in front of them. “okay?"

With Mycroft hiding on his neck, Gregory assured. “Give us a second, bud, he's okay,” Little Sherlock climbed up the settee, sitting beside his brother and waiting patiently.

“You don't love me, Greg, you just... You just care about me,” Mycroft's hands trembled as he separated from him, looking down. “I-I... I do love you, but you don't... I bet you will never.”

Greg laughed in disbelief, making Mycroft stop crying and stare at him. “You... You daft tosser,” Greg murmured, shaking his head. “Having a brilliant mind doesn't assure you excellency in sentiment.”

The elder Holmes stayed silent, embarrassed by the words he just said. “You love me?”

Gregory looked back, gesturing Violet and Siger to get closer, Sherlock crawled so he was sitting between the two of them.

“Idiot.”

“Sherlock! Watch that mouth!” Siger reprimanded, sitting next to Greg, Violet on Mycroft's side. “Mycroft, Greg loves you as much as you do,”

Violet nodded when Mycroft turned to her, blushed scarlet red. “He told us when you were sleeping, and we, like your parents, know already.”

Sherlock, not wanting to be the only one who stayed quiet, said. “Greg stay, like him.” The Holmes family laughed in unison, happiness radiating by Sherlock's humour.

“So, what do you say?” Greg questioned, staring at Mycroft's widened eyes. “Will you be my... My... Boyfriend's a good term for you?”

Mycroft grinned and kissed his cheek shyly. “It’s great, I love it.”

Mycroft's parents and Sherlock cheered, getting up and racing to the kitchen to make a cake to celebrate, but Mycroft could only focus on the words that left Gregory's lips before kissing him for the first time.

“And I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Mycroft is 14, and Gregory 16. The age difference between Mycroft and Sherlock, instead of 7, is 10; Sherlock is 4.


End file.
